Either way, brother
by inatimeofmagic
Summary: 4x05 Stefan & Damon. /"Fetch me one thing." I throw in, as though we are just having a normal, ordinary conversation and not being on the brink of an argument again, "Why do you want a cure?" / Damon's POV. Brotherly bonding.


He comes out of the bathroom, drying himself with a towel and ignoring me.

"How is she?"

I don't look at him on purpose, staring at my glass of bourbon instead.

Stefan might just have decided to dodge me again. Which would be a pity, really.

It was worrying enough this morning

I take a sip of the delicious beverage, just as my little brother speaks up:

"Angry, full of guilt..." he sighs, tossing the towel to the side and then continues, in a voice that is far too hoarse for my liking, "hasn't said a word to me other than that she wants to be left alone."

Dramatic Elena being dramatic.

But I have to consider the circumstances. The first kill is nothing that goes by easily. I didn't go by easily for Stefan, certainly. Said one is approaching me steadily and for the first time, actually _looks _at me.

I find it to be strangely comforting. "Hmm.." I reply, closing my eyes. Not really knowing what to say, I leave him with an answer he will find annoyingly obscure.

The irritation hits instantly.

"Is that _my journal_?" Stefan questions, having oh-so- suddenly spotted the object I was fingering the whole time on my desk. He rips it off without another word.

"Had to go through six locks to get it." I comment instantly, not willing to let him go off in a pissed mood. The look Stefan throws me comes close to a glare.

"_Not a diary! It's a manly journal!" _I hear his six year old voice protest in my mind. Young Stefan, jumping in the air and trying to reach the leather-bound notebook a nine year old, smirking Damon is holding up, pushes itself in front of my eyes.

I have to smile inwardly.

Little Stefan and his dear diary. Some things will obviously never change.

"You needed something to back up your insanity."

As Stefan still doesn't reply, but instead very cleverly decided to "hide" the book in a wardrobe right _in front of my eyes_, I continue:

"Figured out how to tell Klaus he lost a hunter and a hybrid?"

I know that reminding him of his crazy "friend" who might come after to him to snap his neck once again is not the best way to start friendly conversation with Stefan, but this issue is important right now.

"He's on a plane." Stefan comments airily, as though it wouldn't affect him at all. Then, while slowly closing the wardrobe door , he turns to me and the way his eyes darken instantly reveals his emotional interior: "Which means I get to live for another six hours."

Scared Stefan. Or at least realistic Stefan. Both of us have made enough experiences not to practice the foolish act of underestimating Klaus.

"I got your back." I reply in an unbelievably calm voice, which only serves to keep any trace of _care_ from seeping into it, "You know, when he comes to murder you.." I trail off, lifting my eyes to observe him rather mockingly.

"Thanks." Stefan gives back grimly, but the look he throws me tells him he _understood_.

_Well done, little brother. Would you like a cookie for excellent mind-reading?_

"Make sure not saying anything to Elena."

The prick.

We were just having an incredible _bonding_ moment here, and he has to bring up Elena, "our" girlfriend and as much as I hate to admit it, the reason for most of our momentarily disputes.

My mood sinks instantly.

So I snap at him: "About what?"

In an attempt of peacemaking, that at least Elena would have been proud of, I lower my tone: "Cure that we can't find and probably doesn't exist? You're welcome." He doesn't see my smirk , instead stares straight ahead.

Brooding. Again.

"She doesn't need to know that she killed the chance of being human again." my brother states quietly.

He's right. Even though I simply don't believe Klaus and his legendary story, a part of me wishes it was true. Wants it to be true. Longs for it to be true.

I remember my breakdown a year ago, at midnight, on a highway, because Rose was dead and it all seemed to much and I wanted to be human _so badly_.

"Killed the chance of being human again." The words echo mournfully in my head, but I push them away.

"A legit chance." I answer mockingly when he turns to look at me, toasting to our failed mission.

Just as the gentle feeling of bourbon runs down my throat, Stefan- with a glass of my desired drink in his hand, the prick- speaks up, approaching my desk:

"I believe him Damon. You didn't hear Klaus's story. I believe every word he said."

Of course he does. Even though I can tell he isn't lying, he still buries a hand in his trouser pockets, uncertainly.

As though he is uncertain of my judgment.

As though it actually _means_ something to him what I have to say about the matter.

And this- this simple but still meaningful gesture- I can't bring myself to shatter his hopes at once.

"Well." I say, raising myself from my desk slowly and striding past him, "I'll remain..._sceptic_ for now.

Just what's your next move?"

I start to refill my glass, feeling that whatever information_ he'll_ be filling me with next is likely to require a strong drink.

"He said there was a brotherhood of the five." Stefan answers, "Which means there are other hunters out there which means I'll just keep looking until I find one."

The too-certain, too-casual way he pronounces these words betrays him. The unspoken question, as always. Our eyes meet and I nod in mock-acknowledgement. "Sure Stefan...since you _asked_..." I mockingly raise my eyebrows to underline the irony of my words,

"I'd be happy to go an a suicide mission with you for a potentially non-existent cure."

I smirk at him, toasting to my promise. "No problem."

Stefan lowers his eyes, chuckling slightly and I can't tell whether he is annoyed, thankful, embarrassed or maybe all at the same time.

When he lifts them again, however, I am rewarded with a glare. "You know, a couple hours ago you were ready to_ rip my heart out_." He stresses each one of the four last words to emphasize his accusatory tone. Accusatory- I- I just fucking offered him to accompany him on a killer trip with nothing in return and that's what I get as a thank you? Am I blaming him for _stabbing me with vervain?_

"Because you were being a _pain in the ass_." I shoot back, not bothering to hide my anger.

Stefan chooses to take a sip of his drink instead of a reply.

"Fetch me one thing." I throw in, as though we are just having a normal, ordinary conversation and not being on the brink of an argument again, "Why do you want a cure?"

He shrugs, pulls a face. Weighs out the words before he answers: "What kind of question is that?"

The polite , charming smile that comes alongside it is too fake for me to just accept.

"You want a cure because she's a vampire and she's not cut out to be." I ask irritatedly, wanting to settle this once and for all, "Or you can't love her if she is one." The words seem in the air, frozen. Stefan stares at me, no emotion betraying him, until he nods.

"I will always love her." he answers earnestly, then he pauses, his gaze lingering on me for a few seconds, before he continues: "But she's not supposed to be this person...how I want her to be."

I consider his answer and realize it's flawless. And even...logical. I know my little brother's love for Elena is as unlikely to fade away as mine is, no matter how she changes.

Even if she decides to join Klaus' army of minion or allies with Connor-like-guys against us. I figure some part inside of me...will always love her.

So much for the mysterious, cold Salvatores.

And so much for me showing emotions. I shut them off, switching into my sarcastic mode instantly. If Stefan does look _up to me_, his _idol_, his _big brother,_ I shouldn't be acting like a weak douchebag around him.

"And to ride this fairy tail to it's conclusion, let's be clear about one thing."

"What's that?"

"I'm fine with her _either way_, brother. So if I'm doing this..." I pause to allow myself some bourbon and the words some time to sink into Stefan, "I'm doing it for you."

No answer. No thank you. Not even a sign of acknowledgement.

But I'm used to this and I don't want to force him too.

_Cause I'm a dick, you know?_

Placing my glass on the bar, I leave the room without looking back once.


End file.
